The Hardest Part
by The Fighting Irishman
Summary: …isn't' moving on. It's letting go.


A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

She hadn't been able to concentrate or stand still for what felt like hours now. She'd long since stopped trying to take out her frustrations via battering one of the many training dummies to a pulp. Iron Bull had had to drag her away from them, gently warning her that doing that was not only not going to help her, it was also going to deprive her of future things to beat up. Though she appreciated his attempt at a joke to make her feel better, it really didn't.

None of them were really able to feel good about it. In the grand scheme of things, everyone knew that they had accomplished the mission. They had gazed into the abyss, and then they were able to come back out on the other side.

Well, almost all of them.

Sighing, she walked up the aging stone steps of Skyhold's main hall, and saw that the nobles who normally populated the place with lively and frivolous gossip were now somewhat reserved. It was as if they too knew that a malaise of sorts was hanging over the Inquisition, even if they weren't entirely sure of what it was.

She gave a brisk hello to one of the noblemen who graciously introduced himself to her, but then walked over to the side of the great hall, by a doorway that was currently closed. It led out to the battlements somewhere, and the door was shut. She found the person she was looking for, hanging in the doorway and looking profoundly uncomfortable.

"Is he still out there?" Cassandra asked. She internally winced. She'd sounded rather rude, and that was entirely not what she wanted to be. Cullen looked at her, and sighed, letting out a low whistle through his teeth.

"I'm afraid so." He said. "I sent a guardsman out there to give him a drink, and he didn't even acknowledge the poor boy's existence."

"He didn't even want a drink? He's always wanted a good drink." Cassandra said, as if she couldn't even believe what she'd just heard. Cullen shook his head sadly.

"For what it's worth, Cassandra, I can understand his despair." The Knight-Commander said. "Long before I'd met you, I'd run into Varric several times at critical junctures during my posting in Kirkwall. Sometimes they were during major events, and sometimes they were simply during casual meetings." He paused slightly, as if struggling to find the words. "I don't mince words when I say that he and Hawke were practically inseparable."

"And now Hawke's…"

Cassandra couldn't bring herself to finish. Cullen sighed.

"We knew that the fight against Corypheus was going to cost us dearly." Cullen said. "It's naïve to assume otherwise."

"But it was _Hawke._ " Cassandra said. "The Champion of Kirkwall is _gone._ And-"

"And we could have lost the Inquisitor at the fall of Haven." Cullen said. "Don't mistake my attitude for apathy, Cassandra. I can see it in your eyes. I am just as heartbroken as you that Garrett Hawke didn't make it back. But we have to honor his sacrifice…and understand that he would want us to focus on the task at hand. On the man we _do_ have leading us. Speaking of which…" He looked past her. "Inquisitor. I figured you might stop by."

Cassandra turned as well to face the man in front of her. The Inquisitor had already changed into his non-combat outfit, and had washed the copious amount of blood he'd accrued during the battle and that had covered his face and horns. Now he once again looked like the most formal Qunari in existence. His face was a mask of gentle concern for both of the humans in front of him.

"I didn't need Leliana to tell me that my army's Commander and one of my closest confidants are acting out of the norm to decide to check in on you." He said. He looked at them poignantly. "Are the two of you alright?"

"Yes." Cullen said. "Just…a little sad, I suppose. We will get over it, and focus our efforts to the Inquisition."

"We're worried about Varric, though." Cassandra said. "He's out there on the battlements, and no one can get through to him."

"I was afraid of that." The Inquisitor said. He looked at them. "You both know that there is nothing wrong with being sad, right? You don't need to put on a strong face for the sake of looking tough in front of me." He said. "If you need anything from me, don't hesitate to ask." He sighed. "But right now, I think I need to help someone out."

Cullen and Cassandra both nodded, and parted to let him pass through the door and out into the open.

The sun was starting to set, causing the valley around Skyhold to take on an orange-like hue. There was a gentle wind in the air, causing a soft whistling through the ramparts. He nodded cordially to one of the soldiers on duty, and walked along the battlements.

He found him sitting out on one of the corner towers, his back rested against the wall. Varric was sitting on the ground, blankly staring out into the open and nothing in particular. He was cradling Bianca in his lap the way a child would hold a security blanket. His eyes looked puffy and red.

He gave no acknowledgement of the Inquisitor, even as the Qunari was only feet from him. Sighing, Inquisitor Adaar took a seat next to the dwarf, their backs to the valley. He let out a slight grunt of pain, as he re-adjusted the leg brace on his left knee, loosening it up as he adjusted to sitting down and not having to walk around and put pressure on the limb. He'd damaged the joint some years ago in some raid that had barely paid enough to cover his expenses, let alone make a profit, and he was starting to wish he had some sort of magic in him to alleviate the stress.

For the longest time, they both sat there in silence. Finally, Varric spoke.

"Did…did I ever tell you about the first time Hawke got badly injured when I was with him?" Varric asked. His voice was uncharacteristically small and quiet. "It wasn't even in one of our more 'epic' adventures, if you can believe that. It was right in the middle of The Hanged Man, a year or so after Hawke killed the Arishok in combat." He chuckled slightly. "I mean, Hawke had been banged up before, but this was the first time that I was legitimately _scared_ for him. And he'd done it in a typical Hawke fashion: he'd heard some drunken patron trying to force himself on a girl in the bar, and then cracked a bottle over the bastard's head. She got away, but it started a big ol' brawl between Hawke, me, Isabela, and what seemed like an entire platoon of drunken mercenaries."

He took a moment to collect himself.

"Well, in the middle of the brouhaha, Hawke had gotten himself gut-stabbed. Right side of the stomach, by an ugly-looking knife. He'd refused to take the thing out. We didn't have time to get him to one of Hightown's best doctors, so we dragged him into the Elven Alienage and found the local healer. The look on her face when she saw the Champion of Kirkwall dragged into her house with a half-hysterical Dwarf, a fully-inebriated pirate lady, and a few other onlookers…priceless in retrospect." He said. "Right before she put him in a magically-induced coma, he looked at her, still somewhat lucid, and said 'I hope you don't hate Fereldans!' Naturally, the surgery went just fine, and Hawke got the last word when Isabela brought his sister in from the Circle to see him. Don't ask me how she pulled that off. But when Hawke saw a near-hysterical Bethany, y'know what the first thing he said was? 'Sorry, sis, I guess I forgot to duck.'"

Both Varric and Adaar chuckled. Varric finished his chuckle with a forlorn sigh.

"That…that was just Hawke. The world might've been breaking around him, and here he was making jokes about everything. Can't tell you how many situations he defused simply by being a smartass. And now he's…" Varric trailed off. The Inquisitor cleared his throat.

"I had a brother." He said. "Not a 'Qun' brother, but a blood brother. I didn't get a chance to see him much, because he was declared Saarebas at a young age. They took him away from me, and I would try to see him as much as I could. Didn't really work out much, because he was kept under close guard and as a soldier I wasn't able to mix with him much." He said. "One day I got a letter informing me that his Arvaarad had been slain, and as a result my brother joined him in death, in accordance to the Qun. I guess, in retrospect, that wasn't the only thing that died that day: I barely knew him, but I knew that he was my brother and that I wished I had had a chance to love him dearly like a brother is supposed to. So my allegiance to the Qun died that day as well. I left everything and jumped on a ship to somewhere, anywhere, where I could get away. Away from the memory of my brother's death, and away from the absence I felt, knowing that I never had a chance to form any memories of any kind for him."

"That's awful." Varric said. "I'm surprised you take it so gracefully."

"I suppose the only thing that lets me do so is the fact that I never had any connection to him other than blood." Adaar said. "But that's not my point. My point is this: there is no shame in holding onto grief, Varric. None whatsoever." He smiled slightly. "Just don't forget that your lifetime with Hawke wasn't just about this. It wasn't just about the fact that he let us get out. It was about your time in Kirkwall. The bar fights in The Hanged Man. The snarking at businessmen in Hightown. Saving beggars from thieves in Lowtown. Watching him become a champion. The nights he suckered you in Wicked Grace, and the nights you got him back."

There was a silence. And then Varric spoke.

"…Thanks, Inquisitor-er, Adaar. Hope you don't mind the informality. I need to remind myself I'm talking to a friend, here."

"No offense taken." The Inquisitor said warmly. Varric nodded, but then the Inquisitor saw that his smile had faded.

"Varric, what's wrong?"

"It's just…the fact that Hawke isn't here…that's not the only thing that's ripping me up." Varric said. "It's that he touched so many other people and their lives, and because of that there are so many people that are gonna need to know about this. I mean, they all have someone to lean on, someone to go to, I suppose. But every time I think about that, there's one question I have. One thought that just about breaks me, boss."

He leaned forward, and buried his head in his hands.

"What am I gonna tell Merrill?"


End file.
